Word: pinks
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...hour visa; some hours later, that visa was extended by Sihanouk's announcement that all journalists would be admitted. Pace sat through a riot alert at the threatened U.S. embassy, spent an hour and a half in private conversation with the Prince over glasses of pink champagne, which neither man drank, and finally joined the dinner party, where, he reported, "the food was excellent and the lettuce the best in the world." Then he flew out to file his report from Hong Kong...
...stimulus of still life is ages old, the artist's response to it always new. Persuasive testimony to the fact: a collection that begins with Vanderhamen, a Spanish painter of Flemish ancestry who worked in Madrid more than 300 years ago, embraces Ruoppolo, Bernard, Lebasque, Marie Laurencin (a pink bouquet of roses on wood believed to be her only extant still life), Pechstein, Hartley and others, concludes with a contemporary Spaniard, Josep Roca. Through March...
JULES OLITSKI-Poindexter, 21 West 56th. Butterfly Kiss, Fatal Plunge, Pink Casanova, The Flaming Passion of Beverly Torrid. Carnegie Winner Olitski's titles sound more like lipsticks than paintings, but they are provocative. Butterfly Kiss, for example, is a yawning cavity of empty canvas that separates a pulsating orange blob from a passionate pink blip. Through March...
...products have often inspired memorable decisions. The shredded-wheat biscuit became a courtroom cause celebre in 1938, when the Supreme Court set precedent by ruling that Kellogg could make the same biscuit as Nabisco, whose patent had expired and whose link to the shredded-wheat name had faded. The pink color of Pepto-Bismol was at issue in 1959, when a federal court in New York ruled that the pink had a "functional" purpose and therefore could be copied. Last week the Supreme Court handed down a decision of such broad impact that it overturned unfair-competition doctrines...
Thick & Thin. Nonetheless, on paper Honey sometimes scores hilariously. "The waiters looked as if they'd staggered out of some old dark hole," she remarks, sizing up a venerable London restaurant. "They creaked and wobbled and limped and trembled under their loads, their turkey-gobbler necks rising pink and plucked from their stiff winged collars. The genuinely old-fashioned bad service that was being meted out impartially to us all was instantly recognizable as the real thing: a subtle, sophisticated Old World incompetence we Americans can never hope to emulate, the best our rustic efforts can produce being...